


heart hope

by 00line



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Childhood Friends, Coming Soon - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Reconciliation, also here: jisung & chan & the rest of nct dream, alternate ending as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00line/pseuds/00line
Summary: He deftly unfolds the page and finds, yup, a years-old handwritten copy of the track list for the playlist he just deleted. Jisung didn’t help him come up with the title for this one.heart hope.Hyunjin grouped all these songs by person.—5 people who passed through Hyunjin's life and 1 that never left.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56
Collections: Hyunfest 2020





	heart hope

**Author's Note:**

> all playlist notes written during high school  
> key:  
>  **hyunjin** seungmin _jisung_
> 
> a fill for [hyunfest 2020!](https://twitter.com/hyunjinficfest) thank you to the mods!  
>  **prompt #8:** For every stupid adolescent crush he’s ever had, there’s at least one song about them in his stupid notebook.
> 
> content warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, some cursing, lots of food
> 
> title from the oh wonder song of the same name
> 
> [visuals.](https://www.pinterest.com/00lines/skz-assorted-story-boards/heart-hope-seungjin/) [playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31GwhJu17ICXVDxmIRK1BT)

Right after finally deleting the damn playlist from Spotify, Hyunjin finds its track list in his phone notes, which means he’s not getting out of this so easily.

He sighs.

It’s been three years. Really, it shouldn’t be so hard to listen to all these songs separately from one another and not feel the tug of nostalgia or simpler times. They’re just songs.

Except that Hyunjin knows better, knows they’re Not Just Songs. Knows himself well enough to know even just picking one of them at random would lead him to wallow in buried emotions and think back to all the What Ifs and—yeah, okay. Maybe not right now.

But soon. Like always, soon.

Hyunjin finds the playlist in his Notes app, between a reminder with a lot of exclamation marks to check out a website for free textbooks and a recipe for strawberry shortcake written entirely in English. And it’s by the track list for the other playlist he made at the same time in high school, the one he doesn’t mind keeping.

He opens this note, though he knows this other playlist well. _Hallway Hero_ , it’s called.

A Han Jisung suggestion, of course.

Other name options included _Exit Wounds_ (“Too pretentious, and you’re not _that_ bitter about high school.”) and _Back to Square One_ (“Really cheesy, even for you, Jinnie.” “Do you want to help or not?”). They’re still here in the note, crossed out under the winning title.

For a second, Hyunjin thinks about deleting the rejected name ideas to make the note nicer and more streamlined, but then he stops. It’s _his_ note, and it’s three years old. If anyone was going to see or judge it, they would’ve done so already.

So, instead, he scrolls through the songs covering another three years’ worth of feelings and memories and things he couldn’t verbalize at the time or capture some other way. They’re all grouped by year. He doesn’t revisit this playlist often, only when he needs to tap into old emotions when writing or something. But he still knows most of these songs word for word, language for language. Remembers screaming them at the top of his lungs with friends or sobbing to them in his room, not because the songs were sad but because they were _right_.

Exactly what he needed, every song here.

Hyunjin spares a small smile and exits the note, then he scrolls up and down through every other file, though there’s not much here that he hasn’t also tucked away in his journal or somewhere else.

Speaking of.

He reaches for his bullet journal, one of the last things he hasn’t yet packed away in a suitcase or carry-on. Not that he uses it all that much, at least for planning. It’s good storage, though. And that’s what he’s thinking about right now, the storage, while rifling through all the things haphazardly tucked in the back-cover pocket. In it are small printed pictures and stickers and dried flowers for some reason, paper scraps from old to-do lists and letters from friends that don’t fit with all his other decorations on his dorm walls.

To make it easier to sort through, Hyunjin pinches everything between his fingers, slides the stack out of the thin pocket, and spreads it across his dorm room desk like someone with absolutely no tricks up his sleeve. Easily enough, he spots what he was afraid to find in the mess of memories: an unevenly folded piece of old notebook paper that might tear if he’s not careful.

He deftly unfolds the page and finds, yup, a years-old handwritten copy of the track list for the playlist he just deleted. Jisung didn’t help him come up with the title for this one. _heart hope._

Hyunjin grouped all these songs by person.

Just looking down the page, he watches his handwriting and the little flairs of personality – doodles, small comments from himself and his friends, sections crossed out in red crayon or something – change with the years, with each person. His eyes linger on the last section, hastily written in pencil and extra wrinkled like he’d erased his own writing too hard. There are no identifiers by this one, but there is a single skinny arrow pointing up to a small, neat name by a bunch of notes from friends up at the top of the page. _Seungmin_.

Fuck it.

Hyunjin unlocks his phone again – first to his notes, where he deletes _Exit Wounds_ and _Back to Square One_ from the ‘high school in a nutshell’ playlist. Streamlined. Then he opens Spotify and remakes the playlist of songs dedicated to all his old crushes, with the same name and all, downloading it for his plane ride back home tomorrow morning.

The last of his three suitemates left this morning. No one’s here to judge him, he thinks, no one will know. No one will care. He hasn’t seen any of the crushes in years, not since high school.

He just needs to listen to the songs again, once, if for a final time, and get over himself. Move on.

Hyunjin exhales. He _did_ say soon.

✎ . . . .

1\. JAEMIN ( _omg remember him_ jisung shut up _he was so cute though_ **this is my list guys wtf** )

  * 10cm, “Do You Think Of Me? 방에 모기가 있어”
  * WALK THE MOON, “Sidekick”
  * Rex Orange County, “Best Friend” (interesting…) **??? Seungmin what does this mean**



Hyunjin doesn’t expect to find a familiar face in the airport terminal the next day, but this is New York. Anything’s possible.

But he _certainly_ doesn’t expect to see Na Jaemin of all people, and he doesn’t expect the other to sit a few seats down from him at the gate—tapping away at his phone, but still nearby.

Hyunjin widens his eyes and casts them down to his own phone in his hand, open to the playlist he remade yesterday. To the 10cm song that starts it off. To the first song in a section about the very same Na Jaemin who he went to high school with and had a small crush on in their first year (like basically every other student in their school did, regardless of year).

There’s no one sitting between the two of them. The distance is clearly on purpose then, Hyunjin thinks. Or maybe it’s not.

He looks up at Jaemin and back to his phone a couple times, just to be sure. Wow. It’s uncanny. Hyunjin shakes his head at his playlist and lets out a weak laugh.

_New York, huh?_

He turns one last time to Jaemin and finds him looking back, holding an AirPod between two fingers right by his ear, big dark eyes expectant.

Hyunjin blinks and pauses his music.

Jaemin laughs through his nose and offers a wide, close-mouthed grin, as restrained as Jaemin smiles go.

“I said, New York, huh?” He draws out the words, but not mockingly. Amused.

Hyunjin exhales and nods once, clicking off his phone. _Nothing to be so shocked about, it’s just an old friend_ , he thinks as he sizes up the other.

Jaemin’s got on a long black coat over a white shirt that looks breezier and far more expensive than what Hyunjin’s got on, and with matching spotless shoes to boot. He has no giant face mask or bucket hat to hide under, which feels odd to the older boy for some reason but is nothing for him to really worry about. Maybe it’s to show off Jaemin’s platinum blonde hair, much lighter (and shorter) than what Hyunjin had not too long ago and with no roots showing.

It’s all different than what Hyunjin remembers. Several years will do that to a person. But Jaemin’s still got the same toothy smile and inquisitive eyes that watch Hyunjin as he racks his brain for an answer. Patient. Inviting.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin says finally, for lack of better—anything. “For school. You?”

“Meetings at the UN! UNICEF stuff. You know.”

Hyunjin does know. Long after his brief crush on Jaemin fleeted away, the two of them became friends by talking about volunteering and activism and global affairs in their social studies classes. None of those were really Hyunjin’s areas of expertise, but he read a lot about a lot, and Jaemin was great at making discussions interesting and accessible without being condescending. Plus, he was just a fun person to listen to and be around. Who was Hyunjin to say no to a conversation with _Jaemin_?

It’s no surprise Jaemin followed his passions and jumped into the fray as soon as he could. Hyunjin’s still no expert about these kinds of Jaemin things, but he does know it would’ve been a waste if he hadn’t.

“Sorry,” Jaemin says then, with a more neutral expression on, “if I startled you. By talking, I mean. You just…looked so much like you still, and I really didn’t think I’d see anyone I recognized here, funny enough, or at least not on the same flight. Wow, I just couldn’t believe it.”

The corners of Hyunjin’s lips turn up. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he says. “You know everyone. I bet you even recognized some people just going through security.”

Jaemin shakes his head, but he’s back to smiling. His eyes crinkle. “ _Alright_ , well!”

The two of them laugh breathy laughs, happy to defuse the awkwardness.

“You’re fine, by the way,” Hyunjin says after. “I didn’t expect anyone either, though I guess I should’ve. It’s winter break and this is JFK. All the international students have to go home at some point. Exhibit A.” He gestures to himself.

“Right, exactly. Really, it would’ve been weirder if I went this whole flight not seeing at least someone I knew from home or something,” Jaemin replies. “And that’s a lot of people, as you’ve had to go and point out.”

“Well, it’s true, is it not?”

Hyunjin tucks his phone in his hoodie pocket, sufficiently distracted from the playlist coincidence. From there, conversation flows easily, not that he’s not so unsure. It’s Jaemin. How could it not? How could Hyunjin ever be unsure around him?

That’s what made Jaemin so attractive to teenage Hyunjin, anyway. His presence. The ability to light up a room and make people feel comfortable and at ease, even if he was just there and didn’t say anything. That was enough for people to notice him. Jaemin himself was enough.

Hyunjin knew that feeling very well.

People always knew who he was because of what he looked like and who he hung out with. Jaemin _just_ said, right now, that he looked so much like himself still.

But, besides both of them being easy on the eyes, they weren’t close in their first year. They didn’t interact often outside of their shared classes, and their friend groups didn’t yet overlap enough to the point where they _had_ to get to know each other.

Hyunjin eventually chalked up his crush as superficial, hopeful, like all the other Jaemin admirers, except his was something he created around that idea of mutual understanding. He figured maybe the other person people liked to stare at and talk about all the time would confide in Hyunjin about the struggles of being misunderstood or objectified or… something. Hyunjin didn’t really think it through.

His friends, especially his best friend Seungmin, weren’t surprised.

“Puppy love,” Seungmin always said. “You just thought he was cute and hoped he liked you more than everyone else trying to catch his attention.”

Felix would then click his tongue and Jisung would play terrible defense. “You don’t have to put it like that! At least give the guy a second to mourn a lost love, damn.”

“Right. Sorry for your loss,” Seungmin deadpanned. “Fly high, Na Jaemin, or whatever.”

Hyunjin would shake his head, though he could never fight a grin. “I can’t stand you guys.”

Felix usually snorted. Seungmin and Jisung always laughed.

“Oh, yeah, where are you sitting, by the way?” Jaemin asks, sometime before pre-boarding. He’s moved into the seat on Hyunjin’s right, making room for a family who wanted to sit together, and his attention is on the Korean Air boarding pass on his phone.

Hyunjin pulls a folded physical pass from his left side hoodie pocket and holds it out to Jaemin, who opens it and thoroughly inspects the Zone and seat numbers and all the other information, like there’s a riddle to solve somewhere in there. He even mumbles a few incoherent things to further the joke.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes, but not angrily. Amused.

“Well,” Jaemin says, handing back the boarding pass, “what a shame we’re not seatmates. Or maybe that’s a good thing. Thoughts?”

“Hmm. Not that I think it wouldn’t be fun, but…” Hyunjin trails off, just to see Jaemin’s reaction. The other’s shocked, slack-jawed face doesn’t disappoint.

“And to think we were still getting along after all the time. You wound me.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes but doesn’t hide his grin. “You know, nothing’s stopping me from just walking into First Class. Those seats are huge, and the food is good. Maybe I’ll drop by.”

Jaemin smiles now with no restraint. He _beams_. “Now we’re talking.”

✎ . . . .

2\. BOMIN (really? choi bomin? **have you SEEN him, Seungminnie?** _the_ _guy’s got a point_ ) (-_-)

  * “A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into” (from _Be More Chill_ ) _don’t laugh_ **[…]**
  * “When He Sees Me” (from _Waitress_ ) _oh my god_
  * “Helpless” (from _Hamilton_ ) _hey guys spell ‘whipped’ it goes H-Y-U-N-J-I-N_



Bomin appears on the third ad Hyunjin sees on the walk to baggage claim.

Jaemin has long gone quiet, back to tapping on his phone, so Hyunjin takes the time to immerse himself in his home again. The familiarity of it all, the sounds and sights and smells. The startling lack of widespread English, for the most part. A brief but welcome reprieve from rich arts students and Midtown and deadlines. Mostly the deadlines.

When he notices the ad, he stops in his tracks. His backpack thumps against his back.

His old classmate’s face is blown up on a massive screen, one side of a floor-to-ceiling cube pillar thing of advertisements in the middle of the terminal. He’s on a poster for a drama, what looks like an upcoming adaptation of some sort. It seems familiar, as most dramas do to Hyunjin most of the time, but he feels like he should know more about it. Especially knowing now that Bomin’s a lead.

Choi Bomin. First a dancer, then an actor and model. The biggest and most important reason Hyunjin joined theater as a first year.

Jaemin keeps walking for a few yards until he stops and turns back to see Hyunjin staring at the poster. The two guys are about the same height, but the ad and the pillar dwarf Hyunjin. If Bomin walked out of the poster right then, he’d be life size. Jaemin laughs to himself at the thought, quieter than usual but loud enough to draw Hyunjin’s attention. The latter snaps to attention and turns to his old friend.

Hyunjin points up at the poster. “Do you know anything about this?” he asks.

Jaemin shakes his head. “No clue,” he replies. “I can text Jisung if you wanna know. My Jisung, I mean. Not your Jis- uh.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Hyunjin cracks a smile. “I think if you called Han Jisung ‘my’ Jisung to his face, he would complain _my_ ears off before ever correcting you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. For the next time I need to get you to do something, of course.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes but keeps the grin on. He quickly catches up to Jaemin, and the two of them continue onto the escalators up to baggage claim. They get most of the way there before the conversation picks up again.

“So. Bomin catch your eye again?” Jaemin asks. His expression is teasing.

“ _Again_ ,” Hyunjin echoes. He turns the word around in his mouth. “Like the first time was that long.”

“Long enough. You know some of us made bets on whether you’d go through with the musical?”

Hyunjin widens his eyes. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Jaemin dials it up from teasing to smug. “Renjun and I made a lot of money on Opening Night.”

“But Renjun was also _in_ the show!”

“He collected his earnings backstage,” Jaemin says. “You must’ve been too busy trying to remember your lines and avoid your former eye candy to notice.”

Hyunjin exhales as they close in on baggage claim. “I can’t believe this,” he replies.

“Well you should! You were smitten and _very_ profitable. All the makings of a good actor.” Jaemin gasps suddenly as the alarm for the baggage carousel lights up. “Maybe _that’s_ why you noticed Bomin in the poster. You wanna act again! Mm, it all makes sense now. You should’ve just said so.”

“No,” Hyunjin says, letting out a small laugh after. His big suitcase is one of the first to appear from the depths of baggage claim, so he walks to retrieve it. Jaemin tails him as he goes. “Definitely not that.”

With only a little more effort than usual, Hyunjin lugs the navy bag off the carousel and sets it upright on the wheels. He clicks the button for the handle to pop up, and he pulls it up as far as it can go. A makeshift armrest, which he then leans on and turns back to Jaemin.

“I just. I don’t know. It’s been a while.” Hyunjin twists his lips. “I haven’t exactly kept up with everyone’s careers after high school.”

Jaemin nods. “Yeah, no kidding. Otherwise, we could’ve hung out earlier.”

Hyunjin huffs.

Jaemin shakes his head. “I’m messing with you,” he says. “But I understand. These days, I only talk to the people I was closest with the whole time anyway. Renjunnie, of course. And the others. Not much time to go around for people you don’t care a lot about, or who don’t care a lot about you.”

Something buried in Hyunjin’s heart pangs. A shallow grave, hardly hidden under topsoil. But still covered. He steadies himself against his luggage.

“Right,” he replies. “Exactly that.”

Jaemin doesn’t seem to hear, having walked away to retrieve his giant bag. When Hyunjin’s eyes lock on his friend, he’s too busy almost wrestling the carousel to lift his luggage up and out. Finally, Jaemin swings it low and over the guard rail until it’s standing. He wheezes.

“And _I’m_ the one who wants to act now.” Hyunjin laughs. “How heavy is your bag?”

“Barely avoided oversize fees, if that answers your question,” Jaemin says, rolling his neck and shaking out his arms.

“And you were in New York for how long?”

“Long enough. Oh, hey, look! You’ve got a couple fans over there.”

Hyunjin turns toward the arrival hall to see two people: his friend and neighbor Chan, and _his_ Jisung, both holding a handmade sign with Hyunjin’s full name written in streaky black marker and surrounded by doodles and glittery stickers. When they see him notice their work, they wave at him with their free hands. Jisung starts bouncing in place.

Hyunjin smiles.

“I’m just glad they’re on time today,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head so Jaemin can still hear him. “My freshman year, they both forgot when my plane was supposed to land. We crossed paths at the train station.”

Jaemin cackles. “You know, I almost want that. Next time, you should trade me for my welcome party. Here they come now.”

He points out an approaching trio—who Hyunjin thinks are Renjun, Jeno, and Donghyuck—holding balloons and a gift bag. They don’t appear to have found Jaemin in the crowd yet, until they do. Then they start waving and running, narrowly avoiding all the other outgoing passengers and families throwing them dirty looks.

“That’s…definitely an offer,” Hyunjin says, though his nose scrunches. “Hmm. Maybe I will. No promises though.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind too,” Jaemin replies. He moves in for a quick hug. “Let’s all meet up sometime while you’re home, yeah? The others would love to hang out.”

Hyunjin pulls away. Jaemin looks him square in the eye. Some time passes – maybe a year, maybe a second.

Then Hyunjin nods.

“I’ll text you,” he says.

Jaemin nods once too, then he waves a hand as if to shoo Hyunjin. “I’ll look forward to it then. Now get out of here! Say hi to _your_ Jisung for me! And Felix and your Seungmin, of course.”

Hyunjin waves back with two fingers and rolls his suitcase along toward the arrival hall. He resists the urge to wince at the idea of “his” Seungmin.

✎ . . . .

3\. FELIX ( _no way, me too!_ Jisung. You’re literally dating Felix. _mhm! that means Hyunjin had good taste in boys._ **??? i’m sorry, had???** )

  * Tessa Violet, “Crush”
  * **~~Troye Sivan, “for him.”~~**



It takes about a week. A day to sleep, another to ask, and a few to hear back from everyone about scheduling and timing before the holidays.

But, finally, Hyunjin ropes almost everyone into dinner.

Despite all the effort, he’s almost late to his own reservation. Nerves. And missing his train stop while distracted – listening to that stupid playlist of his – then deciding to walk the rest of the way back and trying not to seem so terrified.

Luckily, though, he spots Felix waiting on street level behind the restaurant, pacing back and forth in small steps. Felix perks up when he spots Hyunjin.

“Oh God, finally,” Felix says, jogging across the road to meet the other halfway. “I’m fucking freezing.”

With lilac hair and a fluffy black jacket, he almost looks smaller than Hyunjin remembers. He’s not though, and as much is obvious when they collide in a hug and their eyes are at almost the same level. And Felix is a little broader and much warmer, though that’s probably the jacket.

Still, Hyunjin’s heart races a little faster being so close to Felix. Force of habit.

“Come on, the others are inside already.” They separate and Felix tugs Hyunjin by the wrist, back across the street and up the stairs to the door of Oksang Dalbit. “I volunteered to wait for you, but I didn’t think you’d take forever. What happened?”

“Missed my stop,” Hyunjin says. “Sorry for making you wait.”

“It’s fine,” Felix replies. “I’m just glad nothing bad happened. And that I didn’t turn into a block of ice out here.”

“Yeah, me too. The ice, I mean.” They both laugh through their noses.

The two of them step inside the place and exhale in the warmth. At that, 7 other people stand up and cheer. Han Jisung launches himself at Hyunjin for a hug. Other people at their own tables turn at the sudden din.

The hostess’s eyes bug out at the whole party, but then she chuckles and shakes her head.

“Which one of you made the reservation?” she asks to Hyunjin and Felix.

The former untangles himself from his friend and raises his hand. “Hyunjin, for 9 people. Sorry for not being on time.”

“For a group that’s almost half our open seats on this floor? That’s the least of my worries,” the hostess says, looking down at her computer behind the counter. Hyunjin’s face blanches, but the hostess only smiles warmly and grabs a stack of menus. “Follow me.”

She leads them to two long tables around the corner, in the front of the restaurant by the windows, pulling them together and moving the colorful chairs. After some discussion, everyone sits down and orders their drinks, a healthy mix of beers and ciders that’ll pair well with the house specialty fried chicken. The hostess writes down the drink orders and heads off, and then conversation explodes.

“Well, it’s so nice of you to finally join us, Hyunjin!” Donghyuck says across the table. “Glad you’re not dead.”

Both Jeno and Renjun whack his arms. Donghyuck makes an upset noise, and the two of them grin in response.

“That’s his way of saying he’s happy to see you after so long,” Jeno says.

Donghyuck huffs. “I was gonna get there.”

“What took you so long anyway?” Han Jisung asks from Hyunjin’s right. “You’re the one who said dinner at 8.”

“I missed my train stop. Some of us don’t drive or have people to drive us.”

Jeno tilts his head. “I did offer you a ride, though.”

“But you brought everyone else, right?” Hyunjin asks, pointing across both tables from Jaemin, Chenle, and Park Jisung on the far end to Renjun, Donghyuck, and Jeno himself. “How big is your car?”

A few beats of silence.

“Good point,” Renjun says.

Hyunjin shrugs a shoulder. “And I got here eventually. It’s fine now.”

“Yeah, but you made Felix wait in the cold for _hours_ ,” Han Jisung says, slumping his body forward as he drags out the last word.

Both Felix and Chenle snort. “It was fifteen minutes,” Chenle says.

“But he could have _frozen_ ,” Jisung replies.

“Yeah, didn’t you see the ice crystals on his jacket when they walked in?” Donghyuck adds. “Thank God Hyunjin got here in time. Any longer and he would’ve walked in with Elsa.”

Everyone turns to inspect Felix and his jacket, even though they all know it’s not true. His jacket rests on the back of his chair, still black and perfectly ice-free.

Jaemin shakes his head. “I don’t know why I ever introduced you two,” he says, looking down the table at Han Jisung and Donghyuck. “Menaces, both of you.”

“Aww, so sweet!” “You love us.”

Jisung and Donghyuck turn to each other, beam, and high five. The rest of the table groans.

Luckily for them all, the hostess returns with the drinks and takes everyone’s fire chicken and fry orders. The menu isn’t very big, but their stomachs are. Everyone orders enough chicken to inevitably take full plates to-go. The hostess tries and fails to muffle her laughter at the numbers she’s writing down.

“We have families to feed, ma’am,” Renjun says earnestly. The others snicker at his widening eyes. “Please understand.”

The hostess just sucks in her lips and shakes her head, scribbling something on her notepad. “I’ll be sure to let the cook know. He’ll be honored.”

She smiles and walks away to attend to other guests.

The rest of the table jumps at the chance.

“ _We have families to feed, ma’am_ ,” Jeno mocks, exaggerating a pout and puppy-dog eyes.

“We need 20 orders of chicken. It’s the only food we’ll have for two weeks,” Donghyuck adds.

“Oh no, imagine if we _did_ order 20,” Park Jisung says. His expression is worried, but his tone is light. “I think the cook would laugh at us too.”

Hyunjin laughs. “Whatever keeps Renjun humble.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Next time, I’ll order 30 and get it for the price of 10,” he says.

“Of course you will, Injunnie,” Jaemin says. “ _I_ believe in you.”

Renjun stares his boyfriend down from the other side of the table. Jaemin sends him an air kiss. Renjun pushes up his sleeves and stands up.

Donghyuck holds him back and Felix sticks his arms out in front of Renjun to keep him in his place. Everyone else bursts into laughter at the scene. Chenle picks up his phone as if to start recording. When people at other tables start looking, though, Renjun sits back down and grumbles.

“Now, now,” Han Jisung says. “Relax, everyone. _Chill_. Save the fighting for outside.”

Hyunjin and Felix whip their heads to face him. Their annoyed expressions match.

“Not you saying ‘Chill’ like you haven’t fought me over napkins before,” Hyunjin says, raising an eyebrow.

“A bunch of times,” Felix supplies. “Sometimes you stomped out of the restaurant before the food showed up.”

Jisung’s mouth drops. Suddenly, everyone’s turning and laughing at him.

Donghyuck sets his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his hands. “Oh, now this is getting interesting. Tell me more.”

And they do. Hyunjin and Felix have plenty of Han-Hyunjin fight stories from high school, some that the others had never heard, and some they were present for and just forgot about. There was the time in the school cafeteria, a few times at a local convenience store where the clerk almost permanently banned them both for shouting, at a café where Jisung was ready to swing but stopped because there were others present, like Felix and—

“—Seungmin had to go calm him down,” Felix says. He wipes a tear from laughing too hard. “Hannie could try, but he’d never fight Seungmin.”

Hyunjin’s face falls. He blinks slowly.

Neither goes unnoticed.

That, of course, is exactly when the hostess and another server return with all their chicken—on actual fire, as is the spectacle of the shop— and poutine. All the food eats up the table space, to where they start shifting their drinks around to fit in the gaps between baskets.

“Anything else I can get you all?” the hostess asks. She looks at Hyunjin, the unofficial leader of the party.

He doesn’t respond, or even look up, still caught off-guard.

“Nothing else, ma’am,” Jeno says instead, clasping his hands together for emphasis. “Thank you.”

She and the server bow their heads. “Bon appétit, everyone,” she says. And they leave.

“Bon appétit,” everyone echoes. The fires in their chicken baskets snuff out. And then it’s too quiet.

Hyunjin reaches for a piece of chicken first, avoiding people’s eyes and taking a bite out of the garlic pepper meat. No one else moves, though, staring at him and waiting until he finishes chewing and swallowing. So Hyunjin keeps eating the drumstick until he cleans the bone.

“Hyunjin.”

There’s a small section of crispy skin left around the cartilage. It’s a bit tricky to pull off.

“ _Hyunjin_.”

Oh, God, wow, his mouth is really dry all of a sudden. He sets down the bare bone and reaches for his cider.

Felix scoots over and rests a hand on Hyunjin’s wrist. “Hyunjin. Wait.”

Hyunjin’s arm stills in mid-air. His nose twitches. “If you have another Jisung fighting story, you can go right ahead,” he says, a touch too loudly. “I can’t think of any more right now.”

“That’s not it,” Felix says. “What did I say to make you upset?”

“I’m not upset. The chicken was almost here, and–“

“Are you sad Seungmin couldn’t come?”

Hyunjin jerks forward. His hand fumbles and knocks over his glass, mostly empty but still spilling into Renjun and Donghyuck’s space. The glass doesn’t break, but the noise on the smooth table resonates. He panics.

“Oh, no, guys, I’m so sorry. Here, take my napkins. Let me get the server.”

Hyunjin raises his hand and Han swats it down. Jeno and Donghyuck clean up the table a bit, and Jaemin and Park Jisung lean over with extra napkins. Chenle and Felix pick up the baskets of food. Renjun just looks at Hyunjin as everyone else sorts out the mess.

“What did Seungmin do?” Renjun asks.

Chenle jabs at him with a poutine basket. “Ya, don’t keep bringing it up!”

“He must have done something!” Renjun insists. He holds onto the fallen glass and his own, just in case. “There’s no way he just said ‘No, sorry, I can’t come to dinner.’ It’s been a few years, but I’ve never seen Hyunjin make that expression before.”

Hyunjin swallows. He shakes his head and sets his eyes on the last of the spill. “He didn’t do anything,” he says.

“Bullshit,” Jaemin says calmly. He’s still standing up and helping clean, but his knowing eyes turn to Hyunjin. “You freaked out at the airport when I brought him up. Not like this, but enough.”

“I didn’t—” Hyunjin sighs. “He didn’t do anything. I didn’t even ask him to come.”

Everyone looks at him.

Felix narrows his eyes. “What?” he asks.

“I didn’t. Invite Seungmin,” Hyunjin repeats. He lifts his head. His eyes are hard. “Not like he would’ve responded anyway. We haven’t talked in years.”

Han splutters. “Alright, what the fuck? Since when?”

The hostess passes by, dropping off extra napkins and a new cider can, and she presses her fingers to her lips. Everyone who sees her nods and says sorry, then thanks. The guys on the opposite side of the table from Hyunjin start rearranging the food and drinks. Renjun places Hyunjin’s glass just out of arm’s reach.

“Okay,” Jeno starts, “we can talk while eating. Just no sudden movements or anything.”

And so everyone digs into their meals. Aside from Park Jisung saying something to Jaemin and Chenle across the table that’s lost in the ambient noise of the restaurant, no one says a word. Hyunjin keeps his head down again, finishing a couple more pieces before looking up at the wall between Renjun and Donghyuck’s heads.

“I haven’t talked to Seungmin since graduation,” Hyunjin says. “About three years ago.”

The information washes over everyone at the table, covering them in the same shock as one another. Picturing Hyunjin and Seungmin – inseparable since early childhood, never seen too far from one another – not speaking. For years.

“It’s fine,” he continues. “It hurts to remember sometimes, but it’s not the end of the world. These things happen. People grow apart after high school.”

“Yeah, but-“ Donghyuck gestures with his hands in lieu of words. Even he’s rendered speechless. “But you guys were always together. Like, always. Everywhere.”

Hyunjin shrugs again.

“Hyung. Do you mind me asking what happened?” Park Jisung asks. “He doesn’t seem all that unhappy whenever I bring you up.”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrow. He crosses his arms. “What do you mean?”

Jisung’s expression morphs from hesitant to afraid in an instant. He looks between Jaemin and Felix. “I, uh. Um.”

“Oh!” Hyunjin’s eyes widen and he swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, emulating wiping his emotions away. “I’m sorry, I’m not mad. I know I might look that way, but I’m not angry at you, I promise. You can keep going.”

Jisung nods, eyes soft. He continues. “Uh, well, sometimes I see Seungmin around campus, in the music building when I go to visit Chenle. He’ll be practicing for choir or something, and he’ll recognize me and say hi. And then we talk for a bit.

“Anytime I’ve asked him how you were doing, he would just smile and nod and say you were fine, just busy. And that you haven’t had much time to talk lately.” Jisung flattens one corner of his lips, resigned. His cheek pushes up. “I guess I know why now.”

Hyunjin exhales. He reaches for his glass again, but then remembers it’s not there. He looks over at Renjun, who meets his gaze head-on.

Renjun doesn’t budge for a few seconds, but then he pops open the cider can and pours a third of the cup full. He lightly picks up the glass and sets it back down by Hyunjin, then moves the cider can closer too.

The latter grabs his glass with two hands and lifts it to his mouth to swallow the new information. Hyunjin didn’t know any of that, of course, but especially that Seungmin didn’t say anything about them not being friends anymore, or at least denying recently talking to Hyunjin. He’s not sure what to make of it. It’s sending both his brain and heart for a loop.

He sets the glass down carefully and slides it back toward Renjun, who smiles a little at the gesture. Then Hyunjin sighs and nods once to acknowledge Jisung’s story.

“Thank you, Jisung,” he says. “Really. I didn’t know any of that.”

A beat. “But, yeah. We aren’t friends anymore. Sorry you all had to find out like this.”

Hyunjin laughs weakly. Everyone else is silent. His laughter fades.

They resume eating, finishing as much of the chicken and poutine as they can bear before having to flag down their hostess for boxes and the check. Hyunjin perks up for the bill, but Felix is faster and snatches it first. He slides in his card, shaking his head when Hyunjin protests.

“The last thing I’m gonna let you do is pay for us,” Felix says, after the hostess returns his card with the receipt and wishes them all a good night. “You already did the work of getting us here, and I made you upset. I’m sorry for that. Consider this me making it up.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders sag forward. Then he turns in his seat and gives Felix an awkward, but well-meaning side hug. Felix lets out a surprised laugh-shout, but he returns the embrace. And, soon, they all stand up, don their winter coats, grab their bags of to-go boxes, and leave the restaurant.

Once back on street level, they start walking west behind the building, away from the closer Sangsu train stop and toward the wrong way Hyunjin walked down earlier. They follow him to the gelato shop around the corner.

“Uhh, ice cream right now?” Donghyuck asks. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but uh. It’s really cold?”

Hyunjin turns but doesn’t stop walking backwards, being mindful of his surroundings. “You don’t have to get anything, but it’s my treat. Sorry for making a mess and ruining the mood.”

Everyone, respectfully, rolls their eyes at him.

“Oh my God. Please don’t apologize,” Han Jisung says. “Then we owe you.”

Felix swats his arm.

Jisung tsks. “And Felix already covered us. You don’t owe us anything else.”

“Consider this my thanks, then. But are you really turning down free dessert?”

Han nods. “Excellent point, my friend. Free dessert!”

The others cheer and follow Han to run inside the shop, leaving Hyunjin and Felix slow walking at the back.

“You sure you’re alright?” Felix asks. “I really am sorry. I didn’t know you and Seungmin weren’t friends anymore.”

Hyunjin smiles a small, tight-lipped smile. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets. “It’s alright, Felix. I didn’t want to make my problems a big deal, or to make you and Hannie worry.”

“But we’re your friends too, remember? We’ll understand.”

“I know.” Hyunjin exhales. “I know. It’s just. Hard to think about, you know, having someone for so long and then losing them over something so stupid. Stupid now, anyway, after so long.”

“What was it?” Felix asks.

“College stuff, mostly,” Hyunjin says after a few seconds. “Seungmin attending school here and me going overseas. He didn’t think we could make it work.”

It’s not the full truth, but that was part of it. It’s vague enough for Felix to reach his own conclusions.

Felix hums but says nothing more. They reach the door, and Felix grabs the handle before Hyunjin can yank it open.

“If you want, Hyunjin, we can talk more about it,” Felix says.

There’s a lot hidden there, and Hyunjin knows Felix probably figured _it_ out. He would know better than anyone. After all, of his closest friends, Hyunjin never had a crush on Han.

The small, buried thoughts from the airport resurface. The feeling is just as unsettling the second time around.

Hyunjin nods. “Later.”

“Later,” Felix agrees.

He opens the door for Hyunjin and follows him inside.

✎ . . . .

4\. CHANGBIN

  * Maisie Peters, “Feels Like This” _ugh you're such a sap_
  * SOLE, “talk” ~~(huh.)~~



The next free day Hyunjin has after Christmas, he takes two trains to Jongno-gu. He has no end goal in mind, but he wakes up that morning feeling like he needs to get out of his house, and so he does. Hyunjin spends the transit time staring at the darkness through the subway windows and writing some observations in his phone notes – small, inconsequential things. Not a diary or journaling or anything. That’s never been his thing as much it was–

Hyunjin’s fingers stall over the digital keyboard.

His thoughts screech to a halt, narrowly avoiding a crash in the middle of a four-way stop. Between the love song playing in his ears, the English lyrics rattling around his brain, and trying to focus on his observations in his native language, everything falls apart in his head. Sentences slip away like sand through fingers. Feelings become too abstract to describe or even name. For a second, Hyunjin fears he’s forgotten how to write.

Journaling was Seungmin’s thing. Journaling reminds him of Seungmin.

That’s a fact, not an earth-shattering discovery. And it shouldn’t be one. But now that he’s confronted some thoughts about his former best friend—even saying his name aloud after so long—everything feels uncomfortably zoomed in.

He’s a cell slide under a compound microscope. He’s the ant under the magnifying glass on a summer day. If the sunrays hit him just right, he’s toast.

Hyunjin sighs. He doesn’t remember what he was going to write now. He clicks off his phone and resigns himself to look at his reflection in the glass without documenting anything.

After he transfers to Line 5 at Jongno 3-ga, he decides on a place to go. It’s right off the next stop, at Gwanghwamun. Hyunjin follows a crowd toward Exit 4 and re-emerges above ground next to the Kyobo Building and, more importantly, its flagship bookstore.

If he can’t think of what to write, maybe reading is the way to go.

The chatter greets him at the door. It’s not nearly as packed as it might’ve been before Christmas, but there are still probably a few hundred people milling about, perusing the shelves and stationery sections, losing themselves in the wonder of a bookstore at wintertime.

Hyunjin could stand to float through a crowd for a couple hours.

He drifts toward the young adult sections first, grouped by genre and language. There are a lot of gorgeously illustrated covers, as well as translated ones for books he recognizes from times spent in Barnes & Noble and the Strand. Not that Hyunjin reads much young adult or kid lit in general, but they make up a lot of the books his peers in the English department hold close to their hearts. The Harry Potters and Percy Jacksons, stuff like that.

Plus, these parts of a bookstore are way more fun to start with anyway. Here, the kid’s “garden” has wooden steps to sit on and read, covered in light green carpet like spring grass.

Hyunjin doesn’t select anything from either of these areas, though he thinks about it. And, instead of books, he then weaves around small clusters of people and a million displays to get to the gifts section next. There are shops with everything from basic tech to travel gear to jewelry, and there’s a Hot Tracks store with vastly more stationery and music inside.

He enters that one, Hot Tracks.

This is also part of the fun of a giant bookstore, the non-books. Books are for everyone and for every purpose, but there are more niche parts of the book itself that call to certain people more than others – the things that go inside, or the vessels that hold the words. Pens and stickers and expensive notebooks. It’s where the fledgling writers and artists are, or at least the people who need something cute and colorful to make work more enjoyable.

For his part, Hyunjin could use more wooden drafting pencils, and a mechanical one if he’s lucky. But he’ll browse too, because why not.

The study materials, planners, and embellishments don’t call to him as they might Felix (or Seungmin), but they are satisfying enough to rifle through. Hyunjin understands why there are always groups of people flocking around these displays, and why his Instagram explore page is sometimes just aesthetic journaling. It’s all very pretty.

He finds his usual pencils soon enough, two 6-packs of Faber-Castells. He uses a different brand for mechanical drafting pencils though, so he’ll have to switch aisles to hunt for those, but there are far more people in here now. Hyunjin pivots on his heel, almost tripping over himself in his sudden haste to get away from the stationary area, and hurries over to the famous music section.

Plenty of people are over here too, but at least he feels like he can breathe.

The music playing over the speakers here is nothing he’s been listening to lately, which is a welcome change from his usual rotation and the playlist from high school that’s been haunting him these days. If Hyunjin was any more superstitious, he’d curse the playlist for interfering with his feelings since winter break started and expel it from his life, or something.

Except, one, he’s not really superstitious, and the playlist isn’t that deep.

And two, despite the scene at Oksang Dalbit the other night, the people he based the playlist on have been nothing but wonderful, both when he first met them and now. Jaemin has been incredibly fun to catch up with – even with the knowledge he and Renjun once orchestrated a betting pool on first year Hyunjin’s love life – and Felix has been one of his best friends for years. Even Bomin’s drama has been interesting so far. He’s still a great actor.

Hyunjin’s not that mad. But the playlist is one of the things that keep reminding him of Seungmin, and so he wants to conflate _all_ the people into a monolithic heartache, a reminder of a time when he didn’t know how to reign in his feelings and didn’t understand how his words and decisions affected the people around him.

Things are different now. Hyunjin has changed.

His tendencies, though? The way every mention of Seungmin’s name puts Hyunjin on the defensive, even when there’s nothing or no one to defend himself against? Debatable.

Hyunjin’s been standing in front of the same CD player so long, playing nothing, that it’s no wonder–when he stops zoning out and jolts back to reality–he accidentally bumps into someone right behind him, someone likely annoyed and waiting for their turn at the table.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’ll move.”

“Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin jumps at the voice. He looks over his shoulder, and a bit down, at a familiar figure dressed in black. Jacket hood down but solid color baseball cap on, covering lighter brown hair, and a giant black face mask obscuring everything below his eyes. Sturdy, reliable.

“Seo Changbin?”

Changbin dips his head in a nod and slides his mask down to his pointed chin, revealing a widening smile as radiant as ever.

“What are you standing around for?” he asks. “I didn’t know pencils played music.”

He casts his eyes down at the pencil packs, still unpaid for, in Hyunjin’s hands. Hyunjin forgot he had those, to be honest. He looks back up and meets Changbin’s amused eyes.

“It’s new pencil technology,” Hyunjin says, with a shrug of his shoulders. He waves the pencils around with a flourish. “You can play music from anywhere these days.”

Changbin raises his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Play a pencil for me then. I want to hear 90s American rap. Whatever song comes to mind.”

Hyunjin’s mouth parts slightly, and he flits his eyes between the pencils and the CD player that only plays CDs and nothing else, like maybe he can find a way to prove his silly excuse. Except no, he can’t, and there is no such thing as pencils that can play music. He could take a couple out and tap them on the counter to play a song, but that doesn’t count, and he hasn’t paid for them yet. And, most importantly, Changbin is waiting for him to do something, so.

Changbin snickers. “Aww, so cute, you’ve got cold feet! Don’t be shy. Play some music.”

“Okay, so, funny story! Haha. I, uh, wasn't actually gonna play any music,” Hyunjin says.

“Yeah? Figured as much.” Changbin gestures to the machine with a thin, unsealed plastic case. “I don’t know about you, but I usually put CDs in a CD player.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. Changbin lightly punches his arm in return.

“Well?” Hyunjin asks. He steps aside so he’s not blocking the player from view. “Do you want to play some music then?”

Changbin shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “I don’t even know what album this is. I just picked it up on the walk over here.”

He sets it down beside the player, grinning as he turns back to Hyunjin. The latter scoffs.

“So then why did you bump into me?” he asks.

“That was kind of an accident,” Changbin replies. “Sorry about that. But I’m glad you reacted. I didn’t want to _randomly_ run into someone that wasn’t who I thought they were.”

“Am I really _that_ recognizable?”

Half a beat passes in silence. Changbin opens his mouth to answer but Hyunjin holds up a hand. “You don’t have to answer that. I know what you’re going to say.”

One side of Changbin’s lips curls upward. “Oh, you do, huh? Then, yes or no?”

“Wait, huh?” Hyunjin's eyes widen in surprise.

“I was _going_ to ask if you wanted to pay for those and then come get lunch with me at the restaurant here. So you can show me how musical pencils work.” Changbin crosses his arms over his chest.

Hyunjin blinks. He twists his lips in thought, but mostly to stall.

“You…you do know I was kidding about the pencils, right,” he says.

Changbin nods. “Of course,” he replies. “It was still cute when you got all flustered trying to explain it to me though.”

“Do you want me to join you for lunch or not?” Hyunjin huffs, but he offers a small smile. He tilts his head back toward the main part of the store. “If you’re not buying anything here, let’s go.”

Changbin doesn’t buy anything from Hot Tracks, and Hyunjin forgoes looking for the mechanical drafting pencil, even after Changbin says he’d be willing to believe the music thing if it came from that kind of pencil. Writing implements paid for, they both leave the stationery store and walk over to the food court in the bookstore, getting a table for two at Mijin.

“Did you only come all the way to Jongno for pencils?” Changbin asks, after the server leaves to get their drinks.

Hyunjin exhales through his nose. “Well, I didn’t plan to come here. Just felt like it.”

Changbin raises his eyebrow again. “Hwang Hyunjin, just doing things because he _feels_ like it? Wow. America really changed you.”

He holds a hand up before Hyunjin can reply. “I’m kidding. Whatever brought you here, I’m sure it was for a reason.”

Hyunjin sighs and relaxes into the metal chair. “Yeah. My reason was because I was bored at home after Christmas and wanted to go somewhere. But I didn’t have anywhere in mind.”

“I get that. Figures you’d end up in a tourist spot, though. You go to college in New York.”

“NYU, of all places.” Hyunjin runs a hand through his dark hair, shorter than it’s been for some time. “It’s like I wanted to be a stereotype. I’m just missing those ‘I Heart’ shirts I used to be obsessed with.”

“Oh yeah, huh,” Changbin muses. “I think I still have one of them somewhere. ‘I ♥ LA’.”

The waiter comes by with their waters and shared teapot, pouring freshly brewed green tea into each of their ceramic cups, and then he takes their lunch orders and leaves again. Hyunjin lifts the mug with both hands to his lips and blows at the drink to cool it down faster. Changbin, though, immediately braves the first sip and almost shouts when he burns his tongue. Hyunjin laughs, his breath stuttering and rocking the surface of the tea.

“Did you think it wasn’t going to be hot?” he asks.

Changbin grimaces and sets the cup back down. “Hey! It usually doesn’t hurt that much.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Hyunjin replies, dragging out the word. “Whatever you say.”

“You drink your tea right now and see what happens.”

Hyunjin hums, as if to consider it. “You know, I think I’m good. Thank you though.”

They both laugh, not actually hurt or annoyed. A bit in pain maybe, on Changbin’s part, but otherwise okay.

“You said you still have a shirt of mine?” Hyunjin asks a little later. He sips the tea, now at a bearable temperature.

Changbin, drinking his water, nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Probably a few. Although I think they were mine first and you just took them from me, but people thought they were yours.”

“You had a good taste in fashion, what can I say.” Hyunjin scans Changbin’s clothes and slightly tilts his head to the side. “Can’t really judge now. But you still look good.”

“Yeah? Don’t I?”

Changbin stretches his arms out to the side, jokingly trying to show off his broad chest and toned, muscled arms. Except he almost sucker punches a passing waiter in doing so, who startles and clutches a stack of empty plates closer to their chest.

“Ahh, sorry! Sorry!” Changbin exclaims.

The waiter flashes a hurried smile before dashing off toward the kitchen. Changbin turns his head and red ears away from the restaurant proper. Hyunjin’s sides ache from laughing.

“Oh my God,” he says, short of breath. He wipes a tear. “So that’s what I looked like the other night. Oh no.” He keeps laughing.

Changbin’s face is an impressive cocktail of confusion, concern, and suspicion. “Sure hope that’s not a bad thing,” he says.

“I mean.” Hyunjin flattens his lips. “I didn’t do the whole showing off thing. Just the clumsy, drawing the attention of the whole restaurant thing.”

When he pauses for a response, Changbin – currently finishing his second small cup of tea – gestures at him to keep talking.

“I went out to eat with Felix and Jisung and all of Jaemin’s friends. You remember them? Friends with Lee Mark?” Changbin nods.

“Right,” Hyunjin says, “so me and Felix were telling stories about the times Jisung tried to fight me when we went out to eat, you know, and during one of them, Felix brought up Seungmin, who I haven’t talked to in years, and I knocked over my drink. That was the gist of it.”

“Oh,” Changbin says. “It makes sense now.”

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “What does?”

Changbin gestures at his phone, face down on the table beside his water. “Seungmin’s been asking me more questions about you than usual. Whether I’d talked to you lately or seen you. And I said no, but I guess I could have earlier, if you hadn’t also stopped texting me.”

Hyunjin blinks rapidly. “Okay, wait hold on. There’s a lot to unpack there.”

“I’m kidding about you texting me, if that helps,” Changbin says.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got that, I’m just.”

Hyunjin thinks of what else to say as their server returns with their lunches, and the two of them dig in. He’d regret getting the cold buckwheat noodles if they weren’t so tasty.

“Break down the first thing you said for me,” he says. “The ‘Seungmin’s been asking more about me than usual’ one. You talk to Seungmin?”

Changbin chases his bite of a pork wrap with some water, then clears his throat. “Sometimes. We also dated for a while.”

Hyunjin’s eyes threaten to burst with how wide they are. He tries to form more words, but none come out whole. Just crumbs of sounds. He also takes a drink and urges Changbin to continue, which the latter does.

“We were together for about a year and a half,” Changbin says. “I saw him at a party near my school he didn’t look like he wanted to be at. I went and talked to him, so he didn’t sulk alone. We were both a bit tipsy, but I remember I was scared he was gonna get mad at me, because I thought he hated me when you and I were dating.”

“He didn’t hate you,” Hyunjin says on instinct. “He was just—”

“Protective?”

“Yeah. That.”

Changbin shrugs. “Turns out that was only part of it. Seungmin said he was jealous of me.”

Hyunjin recoils. “Jealous? Why?”

Changbin meets his eyes and searches for something, but for what exactly Hyunjin doesn’t know. The older man doesn’t seem to find it though, whatever it is, only laughing through his nose once before continuing.

“Luckily, he just apologized for acting like that in high school, and he confirmed it sober when I ran into him a couple days later. Said I was a good guy and that he wanted to try actually getting to know me instead of just seeing me as someone you used to be with.

“So we became friends, and then dated. And it was great, Seungmin really is an amazing person. I see why you like him so much." Changbin exhales. "But then we broke up earlier this year, because he didn’t seem to have his whole heart in it anymore, and I could tell. We decided to be friends again, but we talk less often than we used to.

“Until recently, I guess,” Changbin says, gesturing at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin nods in acknowledgement and eats more noodles, processing this latest information and comparing it to what Park Jisung told him at dinner the other night. Seungmin as someone who doesn’t deny still talking to Hyunjin. Seungmin who’s dated, and who’s dated not just anyone but Hyunjin’s own ex-boyfriend (albeit a couple years after and thousands of miles apart). Seungmin who asks their now shared ex about Hyunjin because, somehow, Seungmin knows he’s home.

“Huh,” Hyunjin says, not knowing what else to say. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”

Changbin snorts. Hyunjin frowns.

“Sorry,” Changbin says, though he can’t fight a smile. “This shouldn’t be that funny.”

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjin asks.

“Hyunjin. Are you being serious right now?”

The younger shakes his head and throws his hands up, not understanding a damn thing. Changbin’s face falls from mirth to genuine concern.

“ _Oh_ ,” Changbin says. “Oh. Are you not—Do you really not talk to Seungmin anymore?”

“No,” Hyunjin replies, tone strained. “It’s been years. But people keep bringing him up lately like he hasn’t told anyone. Everyone at dinner the other night almost threw a fucking fit.”

Changbin makes a pensive noise and eats the last piece of his second wrap.

“Well,” he starts, “he hasn’t. Told anyone, I mean, at least as far as I know. I didn’t know you two weren’t close anymore, or I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Hyunjin laughs, but it’s devoid of joy. “You’re fine. There’s just no reason for him not to have said something to literally anyone. Park Jisung even told me that night, if he ever asked how I was doing, Seungmin would tell him I’m doing fine, just busy. He didn’t deny anything.

“I don’t get why _I_ have to be the one breaking old news to everyone. Especially if you all still talk to him.” He mumbles the last part, deflating as he thinks more about it.

“And you’re really not talking to each other,” Changbin repeats.

Hyunjin nods. “We’re not friends anymore.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t know about that one.”

Changbin sets his empty plates to the side of the table, clearing the space in front of him to finish eating the rest of his meal and rest his elbows improperly on the wood. He locks eyes with Hyunjin, who seems about ready to run from this conversation.

“I’m not here to tell you how to be friends with people,” Changbin starts, “but a big part of being someone’s friend is caring about them. Where they are, how they’re doing. Whether one person announces to their mutual friends that they’re no longer speaking to the other person, or if one person is concerned when the other person _doesn’t_ do any of that.”

“But—”

Changbin holds up a finger. “Hold on. Just let me finish first.”

Hyunjin sighs, but he doesn’t keep trying to get a word in.

“As I was saying. If Felix mentioning Seungmin the other night was enough to freak you out, and Park Jisung’s story stuck with you, clearly you still care about Seungmin. Or even if you say you don’t, there’s a part of you that still does.

“Which means—” Changbin points his upright finger at Hyunjin “—there’s also a part of you that knows, whatever happened between you two to make you stop talking, it wasn’t enough to settle things for good, because otherwise you wouldn’t be so bothered. And it seems to me like Seungmin is the same way.”

Changbin downs the rest of his water. He gasps at the end as if resurfacing in an ocean.

Hyunjin doesn't laugh, merely waiting for his friend to continue. When he doesn’t, Hyunjin sets down his chopsticks and wrings his hands.

“So—” He pauses to take a deep breath. “So, then what am I supposed to do about it?”

Changbin pours himself more tea. “I’d say talk to him,” he says. “Not through me or Felix or Park Jisung, but you talking to him directly. Get some answers or – More tea? Okay, give me your cup – or at least some closure.”

Hyunjin sips his tea, surprisingly still hot after sitting through their meals. He doesn’t burn his tongue, but he comes close.

“What if he doesn’t respond?” he asks. “Or if he says he doesn’t want to see me?”

“Well, I’d be shocked, based on what I just told you. But I doubt that would happen.” Changbin smiles now, not quite a smirk but with the same energy. “As a friend and ex to both of you, I think I know you two pretty well at this point.”

Hyunjin makes a disbelieving noise, but there’s the ghost of a grin playing at his lips.

“That is definitely a way to put that,” he says through a laugh.

Changbin almost giggles. “I’ve gotta keep you on your toes.”

The server drops by to pick up their empty dishes and deliver the bill. Changbin doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, and Hyunjin doesn’t fight this one. Free food.

“Right,” Changbin then says. “So, Hyunjin. Closure.”

Hyunjin exhales. He doesn’t meet Changbin’s eyes, instead sweeping his gaze out over the bookstore floor. At the crowds of people, each with their own lives. Maybe each with their own Changbins and Seungmins too, people who they (may) care about and who (may) care about them too.

“Not right now.” Hyunjin turns back to face the other. “But I will. Soon.”

“Okay.” Changbin takes Hyunjin’s hands in his own. An anchor to the present, a tangible moment in a sea of nebulous worry. “But don’t push it off forever. Seungmin might be asking now, but he might not be next month, or even next week. You have a one in three-year chance. Don’t fuck it up.”

Their eyes lock now. Hyunjin still doesn’t know what Changbin sought from him earlier, but the younger knows what he sees now, in the other’s eyes. The words and feelings he needed to say but didn’t know how to form. Sometimes, they’re best said by someone else, or are not said at all.

_Soon._

Hyunjin smiles.

✎ . . . .

5\. MINHO (you can't be serious.)

  * **~~Oh Wonder, “Livewire”~~**
  * Gabrielle Aplin, “Home”
  * **~~dodie, “Sick of Losing Soulmates”~~** dodie, “Sick of Losing Soulmates”



“Ya! Hwang Hyunjin!” 

Hyunjin honestly has no idea how he runs into Minho.

It’s a cold and breezy mid-afternoon a couple days after Solar New Year. The sun right now is almost tucked away behind the horizon. Hyunjin isn’t at a busy airport or in a tourist trap district today; all he’s doing is walking along the Han River, like literally any other person might. There’s no reason for them to have crossed paths, and yet.

Minho jogs over to him within seconds, and then he immediately doubles over to catch his breath. He rests his gloved hands on his thighs to steady himself.

Hyunjin, not even fazed at this point, simply waits to see what the other does next. A smile plays at his own lips.

After some time, Minho shoots back up into a standing position and stares at Hyunjin with the kind of piercing, soul-scouring determination only performers and athletes have.

“Are you busy right now?” Minho asks.

Hyunjin blinks. He didn’t expect that kind of question.

He looks down at himself, noting his long gray wool coat and warm boots. No camera bag or anything that screams ‘walking with a purpose’. Just a guy and the setting sun.

“Very,” Hyunjin says. “But I can pencil you into the schedule.”

Minho grins. “Good. I’m more important anyway.”

The two resume their walk, more slowly for Minho’s sake. Hyunjin makes his long-legged strides small and quick, as annoying as it is. But he amuses himself by turning to his former dance team senior, taking in the pistachio color of Minho’s jacket and the oversize cherries he calls earmuffs. And with the white gloves, he could be a halfway decent holiday elf.

Hyunjin opens his mouth to say something. “So what–“

“I’m gonna talk to you about Kim Seungmin now.”

Hyunjin sighs.

“So will everyone else I know, apparently,” he says.

Minho fixes him with a harsh expression. It’s somehow colder than the breeze, and more likely to knock Hyunjin over.

The younger dips his head in apology. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Like I was saying.” Minho’s tone is controlled. “I don’t know what you did, but Seungmin keeps calling me and leaving voicemails. _Voicemails_. And he never calls me anyway, when he could just text, so I know it must have been bad and it must have been about you.” 

Hyunjin juts out his jaw, eyes narrowing. “Text you?”

“Yeah. Like any good friend does,” Minho says.

Hyunjin snorts. “Oh, _God_. First, I learn Changbin dated Seungmin, and now you two are suddenly besties. Great.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t know Changbin and Seungmin dated?”

“And you did?”

“I encouraged Seungmin to ask him out,” Minho says. “He wasn’t going to act on his feelings otherwise.”

The younger just shakes his head. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Minho shrugs. “Funny enough, Hyunjin, life keeps going when you’re not around.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

They walk a bit more in silence, staring out at the occasional streetlamps along their current path and at the nearby water. This isn’t quite where Hyunjin and Seungmin used to picnic by the river as kids, but there’s an air of nostalgia and longing around the park. The wind feels like a comforting pat on the shoulder.

It scatters the dirt in his heart. The shallow grave is uncovered.

“So are you going to tell me what you did to make Seungmin act like this?” Minho asks some time later.

Hyunjin makes a noncommittal noise. “I haven’t done anything _to_ him. But he knows I’m here, and he keeps asking people about me. I think Hannie told him we went to dinner a while ago, and then Changbin said Seungmin was trying to get answers from him too.”

“Have you talked to him directly? Just you?”

“Well.” Hyunjin adjusts his hands in his coat pockets. His head is down. “I tried to DM him on Instagram.”

Minho scoffs. “You’re useless.”

“Hey! I tried.”

“You ‘tried’ _Instagram_. I don’t know how to tell you that’s the least effective thing you could have done, except for maybe sending him a letter. Oh, wait, I just did. Wow, go me.”

Hyunjin grumbles incoherently, but he doesn’t fight it. He knows Minho’s right. It was a cop out because Hyunjin is a coward about these kinds of things, no matter how much advice he doles out to others or receives from friends like Changbin. Hyunjin knows this in his heart and in his head, but it’s hard to be the one to send the first message.

“Well, did he at least read your DM?” Minho asks. “I’m guessing you’re not blocked.”

“Oh.” Hyunjin claps a hand over his mouth. “I have my reads off.”

Minho stares at him with dark, dead eyes. “You’re so… What are you even good for?”

“ _Sorry_ ,” Hyunjin says, not sounding sorry at all. “Give me a minute.”

“You’ve had however long since you sent that. I don’t owe you any more time,” Minho replies, though he chuckles.

Hyunjin turns his reads back on. Seungmin did read his message. He shows that to Minho, who grabs the phone to make sure and rolls his eyes.

“ _Hey, can we talk?_ ” Minho repeats the message. “What is that? Aren’t you supposed to be a writer or something?”

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out. “Or something,” he mimics. “I’m just minoring in English. And, okay, but he read it and didn’t respond, so there’s that. I tried. Be proud of me.”

“You did try. Good job. Try harder.”

And then Minho types another DM with two carets and a bunch of exclamation marks and sends it to Seungmin.

“Here you go. Now try again,” Minho says, passing the phone back.

Hyunjin’s mouth is open, but there are no words except “Why.”

“Same reason I told Seungmin to ask Changbin out. You weren’t going to do it unless someone told you it’d be a good idea. You two are like _this_.” Minho crosses his index and middle fingers. “One and the same.”

“Says you,” Hyunjin replies.

“Hmm?”

“You’re saying me and Seungmin are so alike, but you two are basically the same person.”

At that, Minho suddenly erupts in high-pitched, giddy laughter. It’s like nothing Hyunjin’s never heard from him before. Minho bows forward, arms wrapping around his stomach.

“Are you serious?” Minho asks.

Hyunjin very slowly, cautiously, shakes his head yes.

“Oh, wow,” Minho manages to say before giggling again. He doubles over like he did earlier. “Oh, wow. You’ve gotten funnier. Maybe the U.S. was good for you after all.”

Hyunjin is bewildered. Not knowing what else to do, he looks back at his phone.

Seungmin’s already read his message again.

Meanwhile, Minho continues having the time of his life even as Hyunjin relays this development to him. In fact, this seems to spur him on even further. Minho is _delighted_.

“Ahh,” he says after he calms down, a couple minutes later. “That was good, I really needed that.”

Hyunjin crosses his arms, still not getting the joke. “Am I wrong though?”

Minho shakes his head, smiling a big toothy smile. Hyunjin has a bad feeling maybe he himself is the joke.

“Oh, you’re so wrong, it’s hilarious,” Minho says.

To stop Minho from keeling over, they both decide to park themselves on a nearby bench facing the water. Hyunjin sits cross-legged on the seat, and Minho rests his right leg on top of his left thigh. The younger stays quiet as Minho composes himself.

“Wow, no, yeah, you’re wildly wrong,” he says again. “Me and Seungmin are the exact opposite of each other. Not at all the same. Literally couldn’t be more different.”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrow. “No way. That’s not true at all.”

“Yeah? So how come it was such a shock to you that I’m friends with him? Or that he’s friends with me?”

“Well, it’s just.” Hyunjin sees the corner he’s backed himself into. “I don’t know.”

Minho nods. “You don’t, and that’s okay. I’ll tell you, because I’m nice like that.”

The two of them peer out at the river. The sun is long gone at this point, and the sky is several shades of purple and blue, which mirrors itself perfectly on the water, though it ripples. Bridges are full of cars, walking paths are full of pedestrians. Life is not over when the sun goes down.

“We go to the same college, because we’re both wildly smart,” Minho begins. Though he tries to sound like he’s bragging, both he and Hyunjin know this to be true. “Our lives didn’t overlap at all. No shared courses, no roommates. We only ran into each other because Seungmin was flirting with an asshole barista at Starbucks and I, late for class, “accidentally” spilled my coffee on him because the place was full and people were pushing.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth. “I’m not even going to question that,” he says.

“Good idea.” Minho flashes him a thumbs-up. “That barista made my coffee that day anyway and it was gross.”

Minho keeps telling the story of them coming together, after the asshole barista treated his co-workers terribly in front of Seungmin one day and the younger immediately cut the guy off. Seungmin hung out at a table with Minho instead, who first made fun of him for having terrible taste in service workers, but who then let him set in the open seat he usually refused to let anyone take. That last part was what kept Seungmin from marching straight out of the coffee shop and never speaking to anyone ever again, or so Minho says.

And that was their meet cute.

“So I don’t know what kind of person who take me for if you think I’m anything like Seungmin,” Minho says, “at least in personality or in favorite things. Or in barista choices. But our values overlap, if you count that. The way we approach our friendships and regrets.”

Hyunjin agrees.

“Right, exactly,” he says. “You both think in ways I could never understand.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“Mm. Sure.”

Minho beams.

Hyunjin moves right along. “Okay, so you’ve proven that you’re not carbon copies of each other. Was that really so funny?”

Minho raises both his eyebrows and relaxes his mouth into something more catlike and knowing. “Of course not. I just hope it means you like me just as much as you like Seungmin.”

“God, not you too. We haven’t talked in–“

“In years, I know.” Minho waves a hand. “Seungmin said as much in the voicemails. I didn’t know that before then, though, stop looking at me like that.”

“Well, then why would you say something about me liking Seungmin?” Hyunjin asks.

Minho makes a face. “Uh, because you do? And he likes you? I thought you were wildly smart too.”

Hyunjin runs his hands over his face. “I don’t even know why I bothered.”

“Hyunjin. That isn’t a joke. Seungmin likes you. I thought you knew that.”

“I _did_ know that!” Hyunjin exclaims. He turns and meets Minho’s unwavering gaze with an uncorked ferocity of his own. It surprises them both in its suddenness and intensity. Minho, for the first time today, appears hesitant.

“I did know that. Once, years ago. That’s why we stopped talking.” Hyunjin scrambles to breathe. He slumps back against the bench. “That’s why we stopped talking and we’re not friends anymore, because we liked each other _so_. _Much_. So much. But it wasn’t going to work.”

“And why not?” Minho asks.

Hyunjin stares at the water again. His vision is defocusing, or maybe that’s the tears.

“Because I wanted to leave for school,” he says quietly. “And we’d never been apart for more than a couple months.

“We were scared to know what would happen if we couldn’t see each other again when we needed it the most.”

“So…you were scared to lose each other, but instead you gave each other up.”

Hyunjin whirls around. A couple stray tears fly from his eyes.

“What the fuck do you know?” he snaps, sitting up straight. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. You’re not me and you’re definitely not Seungmin.”

“And thank God for that.” Minho tightens his expression. “But pretend I am for a second. If you were so terrified of what would happen if you lost me – lost Seungmin – imagine how I would feel. As your best friend, as someone who’s loved you unconditionally for years. Do you think it would be easy for me to let you go?”

Hyunjin grits his teeth. His face is hot, and the afternoon grows colder. His senses are out of whack, and so are his thoughts. His heart beats a million miles a minute.

“Not only that, but do you think it would be easy to reach out, if you had the chance?” Minho asks. “If the one person who’d been a constant in your life suddenly reappeared, right now, so close but not close enough. To get to them would mean having to make yourself vulnerable again and risk getting your heart broken, but to do nothing would be worse.

“I know how I would react, and you know how you would. Seungmin isn’t like either of us, though. Do you think this is any easier for him? To risk you breaking his heart a sixth time?”

Hyunjin pauses wiping his tears. He looks at Minho. “What do you mean a _sixth_ time?”

Minho takes a few deep breaths. Hyunjin joins him. Their breathing finds a shared rhythm. Then Minho explains.

“When I said to pretend I’m Seungmin just now,” he starts, “and when I laughed earlier at you thinking he and I are really similar. Don’t think I don’t remember your little crush playlist.”

Hyunjin sucks in a breath. His throat hurts.

“I’m not teasing you about it, just hear me out. Think about everyone you’ve ever liked romantically,” Minho instructs, “and compare them to Seungmin and his role in your life. How are they the same? What attracted you to those people that set them apart from Seungmin?”

Hyunjin, suddenly, is grateful for that stupid playlist of his.

Jaemin was first. And Hyunjin liked him because everyone else did, though he had a reason to believe their shared role as sought-after students would set him apart from the other students. Seungmin never understood the hype. Puppy love, and all.

Bomin was someone Hyunjin thought he liked way more than he actually did. Hyunjin wasn’t a theater kid like Bomin, but he started listening to musicals and auditioned for the school play like he was one. And the fact Seungmin never made fun of him for it, even as Jaemin and their other friends bet on whether Hyunjin would go through with the show, made him realize how baseless his crush was to begin with. He just liked the idea of Bomin more than the actual person, as sad as it was.

Hyunjin starts to understand.

“Remember how weird it was when you started getting closer to Felix and Changbin?” Minho says. “You used to text me how awkward lunches would be sometimes. How Seungmin would spend more time eating alone in the classroom.”

Felix has been one of Hyunjin’s closest friends for years now, but it wasn’t always that way. The summer before their second year, Hyunjin said he had feelings for one of them, but that was afraid to mess up any of their friendships. Felix and Jisung were excited to know who, and Seungmin was weirdly on edge.

When, later, Hyunjin told the latter two it was Felix he liked, he remembers how strange their reactions were. At the time, he thought it was because Felix had just expressed feelings for someone else, and they felt bad for Hyunjin’s terrible timing.

Felix took the confession in stride though. He didn’t return the feelings, but they made sure to remain good friends. Felix would be mindful of how not to hurt Hyunjin, and Hyunjin would have as much space and time as he needed until he felt comfortable returning to their friend group. School soon started and he came back to Felix and Jisung, his close friends, but Seungmin – his _best_ friend – wasn’t ready yet.

It took a bit longer for them two to return to normal.

“Dating Changbin was the most unusual one, now that I think about it,” Hyunjin says. “We’d always been friendly, but it was like switches flipped. He got me in a way no one else did.”

“But what about Seungmin?” Minho interjects. “Isn’t he the person who’s always gotten you? Who’s always _known_ you?”

The hole in Hyunjin’s heart is empty now. It’s not a grave but a hole, because graves imply loss and he’s not losing. He’s learning. Soil isn’t to bury but to nourish something new.

Minho surveys him closely for changes in mood or behavior. Whatever he sees, he’s pleased with. He keeps nodding encouragingly, like a parent might a child. “And consider me, and anyone else you might’ve liked or been with so far in college. Do you know why you liked me?”

“You were hot,” Hyunjin says.

Minho, respectfully, rolls his eyes.

“And you’re talented and passionate like no one I’d ever seen. You didn’t take anyone’s shit, you stayed true to yourself and what you wanted. People looked up to you because of it, and I thought I wanted to be someone like that too.”

“Okay.” Minho exhales. “I appreciate that, but how many people can you say that about? That’s pretty standard as far as good qualities go, and you said it all in the past tense.

“How about this: tell me the moment you knew you liked me. Quickly.”

Hyunjin’s brain stalls.

“I have a bad memory,” he blurts.

“Liar.”

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out again.

Minho smirks. “But fair enough. I’m likeable always,” he says. “Let’s keep going. Tell me something I don’t know about Seungmin. Can be anything.”

Something small and random lights up at the back of Hyunjin’s brain.

“His family took a road trip across the U.S. one summer, before high school started,” he starts, “and he used to tell me about the shows that played on the TVs in their hotel rooms. I’d never heard of most of them, and he didn’t know them either. Neither of our English was that good yet, but he’d try to describe them to me so we could practice it, and so I could still picture what was going on without having to translate back to Korean.”

Minho watches Hyunjin as he retells this story, notes the way his watery eyes light up and his hands move for emphasis. The park lights track the movements of his face, running around and trying never to leave a moment or a feature in darkness. As he talks, he starts to loosen up. His body isn’t as tense, he’s not as guarded.

He looks like a painting. He looks like someone in love.

“Couldn’t he just take a picture of the TV?” Minho asks.

Hyunjin shrugs. “Part of the fun was Seungmin explaining what was happening. Plus it got us to talk. If he just sent pictures, I probably would’ve said ‘Cool’ and that would’ve been it.”

He takes a moment to catch his breath.

“Gotcha.” Minho nods. “You see how quickly you remembered that in detail? From six or seven years ago? Why couldn’t you do that for me?”

Before Hyunjin could respond, Minho continues.

“It’s funny, because I know all the people you’ve liked and been friends with,” he says. “Even though this country is big, our circles are surprisingly small. And yet you’ve managed to visit everyone who matters to you in them, except for arguably the most important person after your family.

“I don’t know what the others before me have told you, but I think it’s worth seeing Seungmin again. Not just DM-ing him, not just hearing about him through a messenger. Seeing him, and talking to him, and setting things straight – whether you magically fall in love or not.”

Minho crosses his arms over his chest. Despite the green jacket, he looks resolute. “Consider the risks. But remember the rewards too.”

Hyunjin sighs.

“I can’t force you to do anything,” Minho says, “but you’ve already done this much. I don’t see why you wouldn’t try again. Technically, you don’t have Seungmin, so there’s nothing to lose.”

He laughs, and Hyunjin joins in, sniffling a little from the chill and from crying. They fall back into a comfortable silence, interrupted only in parts by the ambient noise of the park. People with their own lives, their own Changbins and Seungmins and Minhos. People who have people they _do_ care about and who _do_ , hopefully, care about them too.

Minho is right, and Hyunjin knows that. He knows himself well enough to know talking to Seungmin is the only thing that he can do, and is the best thing for them both, nonetheless. No matter how it may end, they need to finish their story.

Hyunjin opens his phone again – not to Instagram, but to his texts. At the very bottom of the list, because he is bad at deleting old chats, is a name devoid of special emojis next to it, but an important one. _kim seungmin._

Hyunjin opens the messages and sends one off. He did say soon.

✎ . . . .

+1. SEUNGMIN

  * “Love Like You” (from _Steven Universe_ )
  * Lizzy McAlpine, “Nothing / Sad N Stuff”
  * AKMU, “Time and Fallen Leaves”
  * Oh Wonder, “Heart Hope”



KS

_kim seungmin_

Sun, Jan 10, 16:56

sorry about the second ig dm, that was minho 🙄

but we should meet up to talk.

lol

@minho: Fuck off 😆

Let’s talk more later.

.

.

.

Today 09:43

I’ll be at your house in 20 minutes.

i’ll leave the door unlocked

good morning to you too

Read 09:45

Of course Seungmin doesn’t listen to him. As soon he hears the doorbell ring, Hyunjin swings open his front door.

Hyunjin’s in his pajamas and slippers, and his hair is hardly tamed, but there are only a few people he’d ever let see him so sleepy and disheveled.

True to his word, Seungmin is at his house. It’s been exactly twenty minutes.

Seungmin is one of those people.

Hyunjin takes in the sight of him, this person who is familiar and foreign all at once. Several years will do that to someone.

Seungmin looks the same, if a little taller and hair a little darker brown. Immaculately dressed, as always, but in a collared button down under a coat instead of a shirt and sweater vest or hand-me-down hoodie from his dad or older sister. He pairs it with nice jeans and pristine sneakers, though, to be more casual. Simple, effective.

Hyunjin can’t be more captivated.

“You didn’t even bother to get dressed,” Seungmin says, slipping off his shoes and stepping inside the house. There’s an old but well-maintained pair of slippers by the door. Seungmin’s pair, when he used to visit all the time. They’re a bit small now on his bigger feet, but he wears them like they’re new and perfect.

“I just woke up,” Hyunjin says. He rubs his eyes and eyebrows with the backs of his hands. “Didn’t exactly have a lot of time.”

“Ah, right. I forgot that, when you’re given twenty minutes, you’ll spend eighteen of them in bed and two in transit. Silly me.”

Another time, Seungmin would say something like this with a fond eye roll and a smile, but now his tone is measured and his face is neutral.

Hyunjin laughs weakly and scratches the back of his neck.

Seungmin scans the front rooms for more signs of life. When he finds none, he twists his lips. “Where is everyone?” he asks.

“Taking Kkami on a walk, for some reason,” Hyunjin says, walking to the kitchen and leaning against the island. “That’s what the sticky note on the fridge said, at least.”

He points to said note, still stuck to the metal door.

Seungmin nods. “I’m guessing you haven’t eaten breakfast yet?” he asks next.

“The note’s still there, so.” Hyunjin shakes his head no.

“Hm.” Seungmin walks into the kitchen proper, plucking the sticky note off the door, and opening the fridge to inspect its contents. Then he shuts it and turns toward the cabinets. “Take a seat. I’ll make you something.”

Hyunjin just blinks at him.

“What,” Seungmin says.

“Since when have you known how to cook?”

The younger shrugs. “I’ve been practicing,” he says. “I can’t do much yet, but simple dishes are easy enough to master. Eggs, stir-fry, pancakes.”

“Pancakes,” Hyunjin repeats. He watches Seungmin distribute his tools and set up his mise en place. Only Seungmin would use every dish to streamline the cooking process of what looks like a basic omelet.

Seungmin sighs. He neatly dices half a white onion on one of Hyunjin’s mom’s cheaper glass cutting boards. “Yes, _pancakes_. I don’t know why everyone still ropes me into Felix’s Kitchen Nightmares, like we weren’t kids and he isn’t an actual certified pastry chef now. I was just there as his assistant anyway.”

“An assistant to a head chef, neither of whom knew how to follow simple instructions. I hope you know I couldn’t use butter for a month without laughing.”

“Glad to know I made a lasting impression then,” Seungmin says, carefully sliding the diced tomatoes into a small glass bowl. He also prepares small containers with diced green peppers and freshly grated cheese, as well as the eggs and spices. Before anything else, he looks back over his shoulder at Hyunjin.

“Do you want meat in your omelet?”

Hyunjin stops paying attention before this question though.

He’s mostly thinking about how, yes, Seungmin definitely made a lasting impression with Felix and their legendary terrible pancakes.

But also about how, when they were kids, Hyunjin would go to Seungmin’s house to sleep over and they would help Seungmin’s parents make breakfast the next morning. On the days they had pancakes, both boys insisted on making at least one of their own totally by themselves.

Seungmin would make faces with the inclusions. There would be mostly healthy inclusions like fruits and nuts, but sometimes they would get lucky and have small chocolate chips. Those faces were about the extent of his artistic ability.

Hyunjin once accidentally made a Mickey Mouse pancake, a mishandled ladle of batter creating two misshapen, but round ears connected to his main pancake. After this, he was all about making the pancakes fun shapes. Seungmin’s dad even helped make the batter different colors, so Hyunjin could paint while cooking.

And now he's going to school for design and architecture, so he’d say it worked out.

“Hyunjin.”

He jumps. Seungmin is standing right in front of him, spatula in hand. That itself should be threatening, but the younger found an adorable striped apron to wear over his clothes, so now he mostly looks like a chic candy cane.

“Sorry, did you say something?” Hyunjin asks. _Besides my name._

Seungmin huffs. “I did. Would you like meat in your omelet?”

“Oh, sorry,” Hyunjin says. They don’t look at each other. “Surprise me.”

“ _Surprise me_ ,” Seungmin echoes, walking back to the stove.

Soon, the house is alive with sounds and smells. Hyunjin connects his phone to the kitchen Bluetooth speakers and plays the _Ratatouille_ soundtrack, and then he starts spinning around the space. Not quite dancing, but something like it.

Seungmin laughs to himself, shoulders slightly shaking, hearing Camille’s voice in “Le Festin” stream through the air as he tends to the omelets, and then he smiles softly at Hyunjin’s solo waltz around the kitchen.

He resists the urge to join the older.

When the score becomes a bit slow for cooking, Hyunjin changes the music to a more general French playlist, "ratatouille vibes" as it’s called on Spotify. Then he starts flitting around to grab utensils and cups and tableware, feeling very much like he’s putting on a show, though it’s just breakfast. But it’s a Seungmin breakfast, both free food and a surprise, so it’s special enough by default to warrant the fancy tableware and the cloth napkins.

Seungmin finishes plating both omelets and turns to see Hyunjin almost tending to a restaurant, with the way he’s trying to fold one of the cloth napkins into a swan. At least Seungmin thinks the other is aiming for a swan.

“We don’t really need this much,” he says, both plates in hand. “It’s just us two here. I could’ve put these on paper plates or something and it would be the same.”

Hyunjin swats down his failed cloth swan. “I know, I know,” he replies, “but you cooked when you didn’t have to, and you showed up when you didn’t have to. Let me at least make it look like I contributed something. To the meal, I mean.”

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this one, huh?” Seungmin cocks an eyebrow, though a suggestion of a smile is there on his lips.

“Not at all,” Hyunjin replies. “Let’s eat.”

So they do.

The meal is silent, save for the background music, but there’s no pressure to speak when the other’s presence is enough. The moment is fine as it is.

And, while there’s a lot brewing beneath the surface to talk about, it can wait a little longer. It can wait as long as they both need, because at least here they are, Hyunjin and Seungmin, together again at last.

**Author's Note:**

> alternate ending coming ... eventually
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/hyuckfc)


End file.
